"I suppose she's ordering a few suits of men's garments—garments is what they say in the clothing stores—to lend variety to her wardrobe," said Bosworth, dryly.
Mr. Van Pycke coughed indulgently. "Bosworth, you shouldn't take so many cocktails before—"
"Yes, father," interrupted Bosworth, humbly. "I quite agree with you. For a while I thought it might be the cocktails, but now that you see them, too, I am very much relieved."
"I am very sorry to see a son of mine—"
"Hello!" said Bosworth, his gaze suddenly encountering a table near the fireplace on which were piled a number of small boxes. One could see at a glance that they were jeweller's boxes. "Looks like Christmas."
He got up and strode over to the table.
"Christmas is a week off," said Mr. Van Pycke. "What's up? Some one coming down the chimney? It wouldn't surprise me, by Jove!"
His son was gazing, as if thunderstruck, at the contents of more than a dozen boxes of various sizes. He whistled softly, to best express his wonder.
"Great Scott!" he said, after a moment. "There's half a million dollars' worth of dog-collars, pendants, tiaras, rings, and—" He was holding up, for his father's benefit, a rope of pearls that could not have cost less than a hundred thousand dollars. "Take a look at this, dad!"
Mr. Van Pycke made his way painfully to his son's side. "Astounding!" he murmured, touching a tiara with respectful fingers.